Chapter 5: Sunday, Continued - More Pool Play, a Hint of Spurs, & Little Black Dresses
I turned away from my sputtering pal and her equally shocked uncle, towing along with me the Adele-Bot - or 'Estelle', as I'd rather hastily renamed her. She still wore a face like a wet Wednesday. Obviously, recent developments were not computing. I'd forgotten how late she'd come into our discussion. From her point of view, two girls had just appeared out of thin air. And then one of them had, bafflingly, introduced the other as 'THE' Adele - whatever that was supposed to mean.
I'd hurt her feelings, all right - but she still didn't get it. I wasn't entirely sure I did, either, but I had a plan. Well, not a plan, as such - more a course of action. I figured she may not know who she was, but she'd still know what she liked. So did I - the novelty of my zero-gravity fuck in the pool definitely hadn't worn off. Greta had taken to it like a fuck to water - so to speak - so it seemed a sure bet Estelle would enjoy it too.
When I'd taken the double-ended robo-wang from her shoulder, she'd given it a look as if to say: How did that get there? But I noticed she'd also perked up a little bit at the sight of it. So I plugged it into my pussy with a flourish and advanced on her. Only, when I'd finished connecting it up inside myself and done my hydraulic thing to hoist it erect, she gasped and backed away. Which was odd ... and also ill advised, assuming she wasn't actually planning to fall backwards into the pool. When she surfaced, she began to dog paddle, only barely keeping her head above the surface.
"You ... you're a droid," she sputtered, all wide-eyed.
O...kay. This was getting more and more complicated. But it followed that if she thought she was Adele (albeit a six-foot Valkyrie version), well then, she'd also suppose she was a Real Live Girl.
Now what? She'd soon find out she wasn't human, if she sank ... what with the not drowning and all. But letting that happen seemed a little harsh, seeing she was already on the edge of panic. So, I jumped in and pulled her to the side of the pool. She clung desperately to my neck, and my temporary cock was pinned between us. If I slipped that to her, her mechanical insides would automatically link up to the other end - which would probably also strike her as unusual. And disturbing. Reluctantly I refrained, and instead hauled her up onto dry land, where she lay gasping.
While she settled down, I disengaged the wang from my pussy-dock. As I savored the weird sensation of my inner probe slithering out of its deeply lodged knob, I wondered just what she thought normal was. After all, my reality was now four-hour blocks of time stitched together more-or-less seamlessly. I was willing to bet that Max only ever 'selected' her personality in his bedroom - or in his bed - and then, after a wild piece of Giant Adele-tail, he would switch her back for Greta. So life, to her, was probably one fucking long night - or, rather, one long night fucking.
"See? It's gone," I said, pointing to my pussy. She may have had identity issues, but I was right about one thing - she was just as keen as I was for a romp. At least, she was once I'd removed the visible reminder that I was a machine. And either Max had guessed that his niece secretly fancied girls as well as boys, or a certain amount of gender flexibility came built-in, 'cause in no time at all, we were both on the deck grinding together various naughty bits.
After a variety of positions involving the groping and nibbling of simulated flesh, we took a seventh inning stretch. She sprawled out with her head on my lap and, while I braided her long hair, she started trying to piece together what I'd said to her. "Didn't you say you were called Tracie?" she asked. "Actually, you look a bit like my friend Tracie - God, I should call her. Only I've been in bed with Uncle Max for, like, three weeks straight now." - Bingo! - "And I don't know how to tell her."
"I'm sure she'd understand."
"About Max - probably. But she doesn't know I have the hots for her. And who is that other girl Adele? The one you said was another one of Max's nieces. I've never heard of her. Wait! You said she just fucked your dad, but you're a ... Oh my God! You were built to be, like, an older imitation of Tracie! And you probably thought you were her. I'm so sorry you had to find out like this!"
This was getting seriously fucked up. "Let me explain," I said. "No. Let me suck your pussy some more." I shifted her on top of me - a nice sixty-nine should buy some time while I thought up some way to tell she had things more or less backward.
Before I'd come up with anything, Max walked into my narrow line of sight, appearing upside down beyond Estelle's bum. It was clear he and Adele had come to an understanding - she had passed out again, the little minx, and was presently slumped against his chest, still impaled on his drug-hardened cock.
He gave me a wink - it turned out he had an even better way than I did of putting off awkward explanations. "Adele, lover," he said to the bot. "Activate Greta."
The gentle lapping in my groin stopped momentarily, and then started up again at the double. I gasped, but there was still a bit of fresh information rattling around in my head. "She has the hots for me?"
Max shrugged. "Adele's diary," he said. Then, to the droid probing my depths with her tongue, he added, "Greta, honey, it's nearly bedtime. You too, Trace. Time to hustle on home." He switched the hand helping support the original Adele's pretty butt so as to look at his Rolex. "I'd better give you a lift."
Shit! I had a built in clock-alarm, and I'd still lost track of time. I had to recharge PDQ.
While Max pried his still groggy niece off his dick, I climbed out from under Greta. Once she and I had disengaged, she wandered off to her bedroom, seemingly unconcerned by the spectacle her master presented. He gently lowered the naked girl, who was now leaking a drizzle of cum, onto a lounge chair, where she curled up like a kitten and began to snore. Meanwhile I found a pool jacket of Greta's, which barely reached my ass, to wear home. I looked for some clothes for Max, too, but there was nothing around except the ratty bathrobe he'd worn right up until he'd worked things out with Adele.
It would have to do. Max kissed Adele's forehead, and then put on the robe, while I danced in a panicked circle around him. He took the hint, and drove me home in his Jaguar convertible as fast as the twisty valley road would let him. Luckily for both of us, there weren't any cops around. Even the local security dudes would have been a nuisance - plus by the time Max appeased them (assuming he had any cash in the glove box) I would have gone down for the count. Explaining that would have been the least of my problems.
As it was, we'd barely stopped rolling before I jumped out of the Jag and sprinted straight through the front door to my house. When I got upstairs, I discovered Daddy busy fixing up the bedroom next to his, which had been mine back when I was little - guess who else had lost all track of time? He'd lugged in my chair (Whoopee! No more closet for me!) and parked it in the middle of the wall opposite the door. Just in the nick, I skootched my butt onto the protruding probe. As I squirmed to get comfortable, Daddy leaned close and gave me a big kiss ...
* * *
... and then suddenly Adele's lips were on mine, instead of his.